


Stray

by Miya_Morana



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John turns around to really look at it, the puppy turns its big brown eyes up at him and gives a little ‘yip’, it’s tongue rolling out of its grinning mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'animal rescue' square of my schmoop_bingo card back in 2010

It finds them on a crime scene, and starts following them. Of course Sherlock must have noticed it right away, but it takes John two blocks to realise the puppy he saw at the crime scene is just a few steps behind them.

When John turns around to really look at it, the puppy turns its big brown eyes up at him and gives a little ‘yip’, it’s tongue rolling out of its grinning mouth.

“Um, Sherlock?” John asks, unsure.

“Yes John?” Sherlock is pointedly not looking at the dog.

“There’s a puppy following us,” Jon provides helpfully.

“Yes, there is.” Sherlock is still staring at John’s face, which is just a tiny bit unnerving.

“It doesn’t have a collar,” John remarks.

Now that they’ve stopped, the puppy is sitting down on the sidewalk, looking from John to Sherlock and back to John, its head cocked on the side. One if its ears is standing comically up straight. It’s ridiculously adorable.

“No.” Sherlock turns around, starts walking, back to their flat and away from the dog.

“What? But Sherlock, come on!” 

John runs after his flatmate, and the puppy yips and sets off after them. Sherlock is walking fast now, like he’s fleeing, which is a ridiculous idea because Sherlock never flees.

John grabs his arm, forces him to stop.

“We can’t just leave it in the street like that, it’ll die!” John says, and maybe he’s begging, just a little bit.

Sherlock doesn’t answer, just glares stubbornly at John. The puppy, in its excitement, doesn’t notice they’ve stopped again and bumps onto Sherlock’s leg.

The detective’s blue eyes travel down to the sidewalk and the small dog there before he can catch himself.

The puppy yips at him, wagging its tail. Something in Sherlock’s ice-blue eyes changes, like his reluctance is melting away, and the corner of his mouth stretches in what might be the very beginning of a smile.

John grins.

Sherlock sighs, then bends down to pick up the puppy. It wags its tail faster, making high-pitched little excited noises. Sherlock hoists it up to his face to have a good, long look at it.

The puppy licks his nose.

“We’re not keeping it,” Sherlock declares. “Just giving it, him, a shelter until we can locate his owner.”

“Of course,” John agrees, still smiling as Sherlock settles the dog in his arms, holding him tight and secure against his chest. 

The puppy grabs the edge of Sherlock’s scarf between his teeth and starts chewing on it happily. Sherlock taps him on the nose, twice, just hard enough to carry his point, and the dog releases the scarf with a soft, disappointed whine.

Once they make it to the flat he releases the dog, who starts exploring his new home. Then, exhausted by his big day, the puppy falls asleep on Sherlock’s robe, which he had left on the living room floor, as per usual.

“What if we don’t find his owner?” John asks, sitting on the couch next to his flatmate and watching the puppy yip in his sleep, his paw twitching occasionally.

“Then I guess we’ll need to find him a name.” 

Sherlock’s voice is cool, detached, but when John turns to look at him there’s no way he could miss the soft smile on his flatmate’s lips, or the warm twinkle in his eye.


End file.
